The Left Side of Perfect Page 15

  Chapter Seventeen

  SAGE

  I’m nervous.

  Like . . . really nervous.

  I convinced Rowdy and Rocky we should have a little barbecue in the backyard and invite all the guys over for steak, grilled veggies, and some of my famous apple crisp. Both men said it was a good idea but instead of inviting everyone over, they wanted to keep the party between us three.

  I knew what they were getting at; they didn’t want to share my cooking.

  That didn’t go over well. I thought since we haven’t had anyone over since I moved in and made the house look one hundred times better, we should have a get together.

  They both informed me that none of the guys would care about the fresh flowers I leave around the house or the three-wick candles I get from Bath & Body Works, even though the house constantly smells like fresh laundry now. I don’t know about the guys, but that’s something I notice when walking into someone else’s house.

  Plus . . . this will not only be the first time Colby is coming over to hang out, but it will be the first time I cook for him. Every other date we’ve had he’s either taken me out or he’s cooked, which consisted of spaghetti and meatballs, the first thing he learned how to cook.

  The meatballs were so good and the rest tasted just as amazing.

  But back to tonight. I’m nervous. I want everything to go right, and because Rocky and Rowdy are the worst roommates ever, there is no counting on them to make sure everything is set and ready to go.

  Rowdy comes strolling into the kitchen wearing his usual attire—no shirt and athletic shorts. The first few days I was here, he wore a shirt, but now I don’t think he cares that I’m around. Not that I can complain. Rowdy has a fantastic body. He goes straight to the fridge where he opens the door and starts rifling through the bowls of prepared salads I’ve made. Pasta salad, fruit salad, broccoli salad, and potato salad. Rocky told me the guys like to eat, so I made sure there was plenty on top of the steaks and grilled veggies.

  I watch as he carefully starts to lift the Tupperware top off one of the salads and sticks his finger inside the bowl.

  “What are you doing?” Sitting in the corner of the kitchen at the little breakfast nook, Rowdy must not have noticed me because he startles, slamming his hand into one of the fridge shelves. He removes his hand and shakes it out while turning toward me.

  “Jesus Christ, how long have you been there?”

  “Since this morning. I’ve been in this kitchen since this morning.”

  “So you’re the one making all the ruckus when I’m trying to get my beauty sleep? Not cool, Sage.”

  Irritated, I say, “Did you get ice like I asked last night?”

  “Ice? Sure.” He bends at the waist, pulls out the drawer of the freezer, and holds up a tray of twelve cubes. “Ice, check.”

  Steam comes out of my nostrils as my breaking point hits me.

  I know this was my idea, but I’m doing it for Rocky and Rowdy’s friends; a little help would have been appreciated. Instead, I’ve cleaned the entire house from top to bottom, made all of the food, and even set up a badminton court in the backyard in case anyone feels the need to recreate the volleyball scene from Top Gun but with badminton instead.

  All I asked was for ice and beer. Rocky is out getting the beer now, and Rowdy had one job.

  “Seriously? How is that supposed to keep beer cold?”

  The ice is set down on the counter while he pushes the freezer shut with his foot and goes to a drawer where he pulls out a bunch of cozies, tossing them next to the ice, as if that’s his solution. Turning toward me, leaning against the counter, his hands gripping the quartz, he says, “We’re military, Sage, we improvise. That ice and those cozies will be all we need to survive.”

  “I don’t want to survive, Rowdy. I want us to be good hosts.”

  He chuckles and bends his head forward, shaking it. “Sage, you realize I’ve hung out with these guys almost every day of my life for the past eight years. We’re past the hosting phase.”

  “Well, I’m not, and I’m still new to everyone. I wanted to have a nice gathering for the guys and without ice, I can’t possibly see how we can make this nice.”

  He rolls his eyes dramatically. “You realize you’re being irrational?”

  I put my hand on my hip and shoot back, “You realize you’re being mean?”

  And just like that, his face softens. I see defeat in his eyes as he pushes off the counter, returns the ice tray to the freezer, and starts to walk out the kitchen. “How many bags do you want?”

  “Two big ones please. And, Rowdy”—he pauses and turns toward me—“thank you. It means a lot to me.”

  “It’s fucking ice, Sage, not a newborn child.” The rattling of keys sound off down the hall followed by the shutting of the front door.

  Smiling to myself, I finish my dessert and set it next to the oven in preparation to bake it. This is going to be such a fun party, I can tell.

  * * *

  “Smells amazing.”

  The sound of his voice pulls me from the steaks on the grill to look toward the sliding glass door where Colby stands, all six foot two of masculinity, dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a navy blue polo that fits tightly around his pronounced pecs and thick biceps.

  It feels like yesterday when he broke my watermelon in the commissary. Like that day, when I look at him, my breath catches in my throat. He’s stunningly handsome, and I still can’t believe he sees anything in me.

  In all honesty, I could see him with a woman like Ryan, who is so beautiful and outgoing and fun. She’s an attention grabber, knows how to make you laugh and have a good time. I’m more reserved, and it shows whenever I’m around him.

  Even though we’ve been together for a few weeks now, I still get nervous when he’s near.

  He’s mysterious, with his dark brown eyes and sinful stare, it makes me shake in my sandals, especially when his gaze is intent on me with promises in his eyes.

  Standing in the doorway of the sliding glass door, he holds me captive. His eyes rake me up and down, taking in my lavender dress and wavy hair that I pinned half up on my head, the other half cascading down my back, brushing against my partially bare shoulders.

  He makes no pit stop in his pursuit to wrap his arms around me, and I love how determined his stride is, and how his body is authoritative as he takes the last few steps down the deck. The military oozes out of this man in droves, every time I see him, I’m reminded how he’s been molded and carved into a lean and determined airman. It’s a type of personality I’m attracted to, a man who’s sure of himself and has a set purpose in life.

  Taking me in his arms, his large hands on the small of my back, he leans in and presses his lips gently across my ear, spreading goosebumps over my skin. “You look beautiful.” His voice is gravely, coarse, and sexy.

  I anchor myself to his shoulder, holding on, as I feel dizzy with lust. “Thank you,” I answer, my voice just above a whisper.

  His lips move from my ear to my jaw then find my mouth. Slowly he nips, his hands keeping me in place—flush against his body—his mouth like magic, pulling me into a little world where there is no one else, just him and me and this palpable spark between us.

  “What did I tell you about doing that shit around me?” Rocky asks, stepping into the back yard with a beer in hand, one of Rowdy’s cozies suctioned around the bottom.

  Reluctantly, I step away from Colby and go back to the grill where I check on the steaks. “I don’t complain when you have women over here.”

  “My house, my rules.” Rocky sips his beer and sits in one of the outdoor dining chairs, propping one leg on his knee.

  Colby’s hand falls to my hip as he talks closely to my ear, ignoring my brother. “Can I help with anything?”

  Where was this man a few hours ago?

  “I’m good for now. Thank you though.” I smile at him, loving the way his brown eyes shine down at me.

  He presses one
more soft kiss across my lips before saying, “I’m going to grab a beer. Do you want anything?”

  “I’m good.”

  Colby rubs his thumb across my hip bone and takes off toward the house. When the door shuts, Rocky comes up next to me at the grill.

  “Is he being good to you?” He takes a sip of his beer.

  “He is. I don’t think you would let him date me if you knew there was a chance he wouldn’t be good to me.”

  “That’s true.” He nods. “But it never hurts to make sure, especially after I dropped the ball on the last one.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for what Drake did to me.”

  “He cheated on you, Sage. I can blame myself for not seeing the kind of person he was, for not being there for you.”

  I don’t know if Rocky will ever get over the Drake debacle. It’s one of the reasons I moved to Vegas and got a job on base, because it put Rocky’s mind at ease. Being from Florida, it just about killed him that he wasn’t able to help me through my breakup, that he wasn’t able to take care of Drake himself. Because if he’d had the chance, he would have.

  I close the grill and turn toward Rocky, placing my hand on his forearm. “It’s over, I’ve moved on, and it’s time you move on too. I have a new job, a new place to live, and a guy who cares for me and would never hurt me.”

  “He better not.”

  “He won’t. I know he won’t.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  COLBY

  Fucking gross beer. I knew I should have brought some of my own. Balboa is all about chick IPAs that I can’t stand the taste of, usually some fruit concoction infused in them. Sighing, I take a bottle out of the cooler and read the label.

  Grapefruit.

  Christ.

  For such a big alpha male, he sure doesn’t hide his girly side.

  I take the bottle opener that doubles as a magnet off the fridge and pop the beer open. One sip and I’m gagging.

  “Fuck,” I sputter, holding the beer out in front of me to take another look at it.

  “Why are you drinking that?” a familiar voice asks. When I turn toward the front door, I spot Ryan. She’s holding two six-packs of my favorite beer, Sierra Nevada. I could hug her.

  “Please tell me you plan on sharing those with me.” I point to the green and brown bottles, my mouth begging to free my taste buds of the hellish flavor on my tongue.

  With a smile, she holds a pack out to me and says, “All yours, buddy.”

  “This is why we’re friends. You bring the good stuff.”

  “Is that the only reason?” She smiles wickedly, taking a beer out and putting the rest in the fridge.

  I pop both our beers open. “Right now it’s the only important reason.”

  Tilting my head back, I take a long swig of the beer, grateful. Grapefruit beer can go to hell.

  The past few weeks, Ryan has slowly integrated into our group of friends. Whenever we have a get together like this, I always make sure to invite her. I know I don’t have to, but I feel like I need to keep a close eye on her, make sure she’s okay, especially after I talked to Stryder on the phone once I knew Ryan was living here.

  He told me she’s been through the gauntlet of men, one right after the other, and she finally decided to make a change. Rory wasn’t too pleased that her best friend was moving, but Stryder, who’s spent a ton of time with Ryan, and considers her a good friend, agreed she needed a change.

  I need to be her rock.

  And I can see she needed it. I only saw a glimpse—the tiny amount she let me see— but it was a Ryan I didn’t quite recognize, more subdued and quiet. Since the day I saw her at the pool, I’ve slowly seen a change in her demeanor. She’s becoming the Ryan I knew at Rory and Stryder’s wedding. Outgoing, personable, fun.

  She’s the girl who steals the show.

  “It smells amazing.” Ryan scans the kitchen. “Your girl really knows how to cook, doesn’t she?”

  I pat my stomach. “I can’t wait to find out and by the smells coming off the grill, I’m ready to gain a few pounds.”

  Ryan rolls her eyes and breezes by me in cut-off denim shorts and a black tank top, her sunglasses perched on the top of her head. “Please, when your six-pack washes way, then you can start complaining to me about gaining weight.”

  She exits out the door and is quickly greeted by Sage, both girls giving each other a hug. I follow closely behind.

  “Dude, didn’t you see I have grapefruit beer in the fridge?” Balboa asks, tilting his bottle in my direction.

  “Yeah, I saw. There’s an open bottle on the counter waiting for you.”

  Grumbling, he stands from his chair and says, “Don’t waste the fucking beer.”

  Once Balboa leaves, Ryan says, “How was the other night? Did you two have fun?” She wiggles her eyebrows at Sage.

  How was the other night? Do these two talk more than I realized?

  And is it weird they’re talking about me?

  “It was good.”

  “Good?” I cough on my beer, thinking back to the other night when we hung out at my house. “Just good?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “The movie was fine. We watched some documentary on flying airplanes.”

  Ryan’s head whips in my direction, her eyes narrowing. “Colby,” Ryan chastises, “you did not invite her over for a flying documentary. I gave you specific instructions on what to do.”

  “Did she?” Sage turns toward me, a playful hand on her hip.

  Why do I feel like these two will gang up on me? It feels like I’m in an interrogation room with both of them staring at me, ready to catch me in a lie.

  Not answering right away, I take a sip of my beer and swallow. “She might have texted me the other day asking if the boys and you wanted tickets to the variety show. I might have said it wasn’t our thing, and she might have suggested an idea for us to do.”

  “Wait, hold up.” Sage raises her palm to the air to stop me. “You told Ryan that variety shows aren’t our thing?”

  I nod, feeling my face start to flame.

  Sage walks up to me and circles her arms around my waist, a huge smile on her face. “Aww, you said our thing. That’s cute.”

  “Oh hell,” Ryan groans from the side, taking a large gulp of her drink.

  Just as I’m about to lean down for a kiss, Sage playfully swats my stomach and says, “And if someone offers you free tickets, you take them. Don’t be rude.”

  “Yeah, don’t be rude,” Ryan chimes in, lifting her bottle toward Sage. “Those tickets are a hot commodity.”

  “What tickets?” Rowdy steps outside and takes a seat next to Ryan at the table. He leans back in his chair and puts his arm over the back of hers. I eye him, giving him a non-verbal warning. He just smirks at me.

  Turning toward him, Ryan says, “I asked Colby if you all wanted tickets to the variety show I work at, and he said no.”

  “What the fuck, man? I want tickets. I love a good variety show and those things aren’t cheap.”

  “I didn’t want to put her out,” I groan, getting irritated.

  “She offered,” Rowdy counters. “If someone offers, that’s not putting them out. Maybe it would have been good for you to get out of your house, do something fun. What’s with the flying documentary, man?”

  I give a long side-eye to Sage who has her hand covering her mouth, chuckling.

  “He’s got you there, Colby,” Ryan adds, a devilish grin on her face.

  Motherfuckers.

  “Hey Sage, how about we don’t talk about our relationship with these fools?”

  “Don’t listen to him.” Rowdy throws his bottle cap at me. “Come and talk to me anytime; I’ll tell you exactly what he’s doing wrong.”

  Shaking my head, I sip from my beer bottle. “Thanks, man.”

  He tips his head in my direction. “Chalk it up to the all-you-can-eat buffet.”

  “Damn it, Sage.”

  Turned toward the grill, I can’t se
e her face, but I can see the way her shoulders are shaking. Yeah, my girl’s laughter is ripping through her.

  Well, I’m glad someone else is getting pleasure out of this besides the two handing it out.

  * * *

  “Are you seeing anyone?” Leaning back into my chest, Sage poses the question to Ryan, who is sitting next to us around the fire pit, the orange glow lighting up our faces.

  “No, not right now. I think I’m taking a little break on the man front.”

  Colt groans off to the side. He arrived an hour late with Bent but quickly took down enough food for four men. “Women who say they’re quitting men always find a man the next day. It’s logic. Let me save you the time. I’m right here, sweetheart.” He opens his arms wide in greeting.

  “Watch it, Colt,” I warn. “Off limits.”

  “You know, you’re going to give Sage a complex if you keep protecting Ryan.”

  My face blanches but is quickly recovered when Sage squeezes my hand that’s gripping her stomach, keeping her close to me. “No, I agree with Colby; Ryan is off limits.”

  Chuckling, Ryan shrugs her shoulders. “Sorry, Colt, although I think your Texas accent is hot.”

  “See”—Colt points—“she thinks I’m hot. Why are you pissing all around her, man?”

  “Because you’re an idiot,” I answer without skipping a beat. “She doesn’t need an idiot, she needs a good guy who’s going to treat her well and stick around.”

  “Is that right?” she asks, curling her legs in close to her body. “When did you become the know-it-all on my love life?”

  I can’t say Stryder, because I’m pretty sure she won’t like that, so I say, “I just know you.”

  She studies me for a few beats, and I avoid all eye contact with her, not wanting her to read the truth on the tip of my tongue. “Oh my God, you talked to Stryder, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe.” I move Sage in front of me as a shield.

  “Don’t use your girlfriend to protect yourself. Be a man and tell me what you talked about.”